The Thespian
by FireElemental159
Summary: There was a brain, an athlete, a basket-case, a princess, a criminal... and a thespian. Margaret Kelly, the star of nearly all the school plays, got detention on that fateful Saturday in March. But how will she handle the craziness of a day in detention... especially when that detention has John Bender?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: WOAH, new story! And what is this? A Breakfast Club fanfic? That's right lovelies, I am totally doing a cliche Breakfast Club fanfiction where a 6th character is added to the group, blah, blah, blah. But it's fun, so read it anyways! ENJOY! **

**And remember I own nothing except the thespian!**

_Saturday March 24__th__, 1984._

_Shermer High School. Shermer, Illinois. 60062._

_Dear Mr. Vernon,_

_We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever we did wrong, what we did was wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write this essay telling you who we think we are, what do you care? You see us as you want to see us… in the simplest terms and most convenient definitions. You see us as a brain, an athlete, a basket-case, a princess, a thespian, and a criminal. Correct? That's the way we saw each other at seven o' clock this morning._

_We were brainwashed…_

Chapter 1

The princess sat in her father's silver BMW, annoyed as she looked at the school in front of her. "I can't believe you couldn't get me out of this," she said, pushing a piece of short, red hair out of her face. "I mean, it's so absurd that I have to be here on a Saturday. It's not like I'm defective or anything."

Her father smiled at his daughter. "I'll make it up to you. Honey ditching school to go shopping doesn't make you defective." He handed her a small shopping bag as she rolled her eyes at his response. "Have a good day."

She didn't say anything as she got out of the car.

* * *

In the car just behind was the brain, who was being given a stern talking to by his mother. "Now," she said haughtily, "is this the first or last time we do this?"

He glanced down at his shoes, mumbling, "Last."

"Well then get in there and use that time to your advantage."

The brain's gaze flicked from the floor to his mother. "Mom, we're not supposed to study; we just have to sit there and do nothing."

His mother glared directly at him, pointing a finger. "Well mister you figure out a way to study."

At that moment his little sister decided to speak with a whiny little, "Yeah!"

His mother shoos him away. "Well go!"

* * *

Next in the car line was the athlete, picking at one of the many patches on his letterman's jacket. His father was looking just beyond him, his hands gripped to the steering wheel.

"Hey, I screwed around – guys screw around, there's nothing wrong with that. Except you got caught, Sport."

The athlete was nodding, not looking in the direction of his father. "Yeah, Mom already reamed me, alright?"

It apparently wasn't alright though, because his father grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving the car. "You wanna miss a match? You wanna blow your ride? Now, no school's gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case."

* * *

The criminal sauntered up to the school, apparently having no ride. A car drove towards him, but he didn't move out of the way, even when it was only feet from hitting him. It suddenly lurched to a halt, allowing the basket-case to get out.

She realized that the car was still there. Tentatively, she walked to the front window, as if to say goodbye, but the car just sped away without a second thought.

* * *

"Now are you sorry for what you did?" The thespian pushed her glasses up her nose as an excuse not to look at her mother.

"Yes. I have been for the past two days." As she said this, her mother's expression softened, and handed her a lunch bag.

"Good, now get in there. You don't want to be late for detention. I most certainly don't want you to come back here next weekend too."

She nodded to her mother, putting the lunch into her normal bag and flipped her long blonde hair across her shoulder. "Um, bye."

Even though her mother was smiling, her voice was harsh as she said, "Get."

She stumbled out over her long skirt, already knowing this was going to be an interesting day.

**A/N: Well, what did you guys think of that? Good? Bad? Leave a review telling me how you thought it was and if you'd like to read more.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Yeah two chapters posted in one day! So with this story, the chapters are going to be shorter, but more frequently put up, just because I feel it works best for the story. And once again, I own nothing except Margaret.**

Chapter 2

Margaret Kelly, the thespian, hurried to the front table, throwing down her things, then looked at the other two people already in the library. Claire Standish, one of the rich popular kids that couldn't be bothered with anyone outside their inner circle. Short red hair, Ralph Lauren clothes, an annoyed expression. _Snob_, Margaret thought.

The other person was Brian Johnson, who was in some of her classes. Nice kid. Blonde hair; clean clothes. Simple, in a way, and friendly to nearly everyone. He caught her looking and smiled slightly, waving. Margaret waved back.

Footsteps sounded through the library, and the three turned to see Andrew Clark. Margaret knew him too. On the varsity wrestling team. He glanced at Claire, pointing to the chair next to her. She just shrugged, and he sat down. Of course Margaret shouldn't have been people-watching, but she didn't feel like she could do anything else.

Next, it was a loud banging noise, like someone had hit the door. Everyone's eyes, including Margaret's, focused on the noise to find Bender. John Bender, to be specific. Margaret's eyes narrowed, following him as he touched nearly everything at the checkout counter before taking some hall passes. Margaret knew him from around, and knew all the rumors about him.

Rumors she knew were true.

From behind dark sunglasses she could feel Bender's gaze shift to her for a moment, then go to Brian. Silently, he points to the table behind Margaret, a sign to get Brian to move. Reluctantly, he did, and Bender sat down, kicking his feet up into the opposite chair.

Lastly, a streak of black ran into the room, hiding at the back table. Margaret turned, her blonde braid hitting her back. She couldn't make out the face of the girl, but she did seem familiar. Turning back into her original position, she kicked the air with a booted foot. _Nine hours_, she thought, _I'll be a dead cause in nine minutes_. She played with the collar of her sweater, trying to ignore the feeling that someone was staring at her. _Probably Brian looking into space or something. Or maybe you're paranoid. Paranoid might be better. Par-a-no-id. Jesus I'm already bored._

That bored was shot and killed in the dust the moment Principal Vernon walked in, holding a stack of papers and some pencils in his hand. His smug expression was enough to make Margaret glare at the desk as he said, "Well, well. Here we are. I want to congratulate you for being on time –"

Claire raised her hand, and said, "Excuse me, sir. I think there's been a mistake. I know its detention and all but, um, I don't think I belong in _here_." She said the last word with distain, like she was above the rest of her fellow students. Margaret almost laughed at the fact Vernon ignored her completely.

"It is now seven oh six," he said, looking around at all of them. "You have exactly eight hours and fifty four minutes to think why you're here. To ponder the error of your ways." There was a sickening hack, and Margaret whipped her head to see that Bender had spit and caught it again in his mouth. She shuddered a little in disgust.

Vernon continued like he didn't notice. "And you may not talk." He turned to Brian just in time to catch him slowly moving himself away from Bender, "you may not move from these seats." He rapped his knuckles on Margaret's table. "You may not study or otherwise."

Then he turned full on to the criminal himself. "And you will not sleep." Vernon quickly pushed Bender's feet off of the chair, who nearly immediately put them back up on the table as the principal spoke. "Alright people, today we're going to try something a little different. We're going to write an essay – of no less than a thousand words – describing to me who you think you are." He put a piece of paper and a pencil on everyone's desk, causing Margaret to flinch when he reached her table.

Bender raised an eyebrow at the paper. "Is this a test?"

Vernon just looked around at them and said, "And when I say essay, I mean essay. I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr. Bender?"

"Crystal."

But Vernon wasn't done, this time veering over to Margaret. "And in proper essay format, correct, Miss Kelly?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Maybe all of you will learn a little something about yourself. Maybe you will even decide whether or not you care to return."

Margaret felt Brian stand up behind her, stuttering, "I – I can answer that right now, sir. That'd be a no, no for me."

Vernon snapped, "Sit down, Johnson."

"Thank you sir," Brian mumbled quietly, sitting back down again.

Mr. Vernon pointed over to the doors once Brian was seated. "My office is right across that hall. Any monkey business is ill-advised. Any questions?"

Of course Bender had to raise his hand. "Yeah, I got a question." There was a pause, enough for Vernon to become suspicious, until Bender said, "Does Barry Manilow know you raid his wardrobe?"

Vernon glowered, but still stood tall. "I'll give you the answer to that question, Mr. Bender, next Saturday. Don't mess with the bull, young man, you'll get the horns." With one last look at all of them he left, leaving them all alone with each other.

"That man," Bender said, "is a brownie hound."

Margaret turned herself around, confused. "A what?" That was a mistake, it only caused Bender to look at her full on.

"Why don't you ask whoever gave you that god-awful sweater." She self-consciously touched the neck of the turtleneck sweater. It was big and grey, and along with her green skirt, it successfully hid her figure from everyone. She flipped her braid around her neck, playing with the scarf she had in it.

"Jackass," she mumbled, crossing her arms.

Bender leaned closer to her, cupping his hand over his ear. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

She pretended she hadn't said anything, and just continued to stare at the wall. _Just ignore everyone and I can just get through the day._ Her thoughts got broken off at a sharp snapping sound. Slowly, the five of them turned to see the dark-haired girl biting down on her nails. Margaret thought she looked familiar, but couldn't place her name. Subconsciously, her face curled up in disgust.

"You keep eating your hand, you aren't going to be hungry for lunch." Bender said sarcastically, causing the girl to glare at him. Margaret nearly laughed as she bite off a piece of her nail and spit it out at Bender. He didn't even flinch at it, just continued talking, "I've seen you before you know."

He pointed, then froze for a second. Margaret glanced at the door to see Vernon peering in. After he moved back to his desk Bender spoke again. "You too." Margaret turned to see his finger pointing at her. She blinked, hoping to God she wasn't blushing.

This was going to be a helluva long day.

**A/N: So what did you think? Does Margaret fit in well with the Breakfast Club so far? Tell me your thoughts in that nice little review box below.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Woo, here's chapter 3! I'm so glad I got a lot of views and good reivews from you guys for the first two chapters, and I hpe you'll like this one just as much! Here we go!**

Chapter 3

As Margaret tapped lightly with a pencil, she could hear Brian muttering to himself. "Who do I think I am? Who are you? Who are you?" She spun around a little in her chair, finding that he attached his pen to his bottom lip, staring at the ceiling as he did so.

"I am a walrus." The pen began to hit his nose and Margaret couldn't hide a small laugh. Brian looked down at her, then over to Bender, who was staring blankly at him, utterly confused. Brian took off the pen and gave the criminal a nervous smile. The other three chose to ignore the event happening, but Margaret was still watching, just less obviously. She brought her turtleneck up across her mouth as a way to get comfortable, and pretended to read her lines for the Shakespeare Festival she was in. _Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou Romeo?_

However, she was actually stealing glances at the two boys behind her. Bender and Brian both started to take off their jackets, causing them to stop. While Bender finished taking off the large trench coat he walked in with – and revealing a jean jacket over a red flannel – Brian feigned suddenly becoming cold, and proceeded to put his jacket back on.

"It's the shits, huh?" After an awkward silence, Bender turned away, and Margaret propped her arms on Brian's table.

"Nice save," she whispered.

He took off his jacket, muttering, "Um thanks."

_Denounce thy father and refuse thy name, _her mind said, trying to remember the balcony scene for Monday's practice. Those thoughts were quickly bombarded, however, by the sound of Bender's terrible singing. "Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah… nah, nah, nah."

She heard Claire mumble, "I can't believe this is really happening to me." _Yeah, same here prom queenie._

"Oh shit!" Bender's singing switched to profanity very quickly. "What're we s'posed to do if we have to take a piss?"

Margaret facepalmed, _Dear God_.

"Well if you gotta go." There was the distinct sound of a zipper being undone. "You gotta go."

Claire yelled, "Oh my God!"

Which was followed my Margaret's, "Oh no. Hell no."

And after that was Andrew saying, "Hey, you're not urinating in here, man."

Bender held out his hand to try and make them stop. "Don't talk, don't talk. It makes it crawl back up."

Andrew glared. "You whip it out and you're dead before the first drop hits the floor."

Bender gasped, mocking him as he said, almost flirtatiously, "You're pretty sexy when you get angry. Grrr." He then quickly turned to Brian. "Hey homeboy."

Brian pointed to himself with his pen, mouthing, _Me?_

The criminal gave the smallest nod before saying, "Why don't you go close that door. We'll get the prom queen, and maybe even the drama star, impregnated." Margaret's eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open in shock. Bender winked at her, just making everything worse.

"Hey." Andrew snapped at Bender, who ignored him the first time. "Hey!"

"What?"

"If I lose my temper, you're a totaled man." _Damn boy,_ the thespian thought.

"Totally?" Bender mocked him.

But Andrew was serious as he glared and said, "Totally."

"Why don't you just shut up? Nobody here's interested." Claire said, joining in on the conversation.

Bender smirked, nodding his head to Margaret. "She looks like she is."

Two pairs of eyes focused on Margaret, and she immediately wished she wasn't there. She threw her head down into her arms on the table, becoming embarrassed. She wasn't interested at all.

"Now look what you did, buttface." That was Andrew's voice, definitely talking to Bender.

Bender's voice was light, and sarcastic, Margaret noted. "Well hey Sporto! What'd you do to get in here? Forget to wash your jock?"

Brian tapped his pen nervously, stuttering, "Uh, excuse me, fellas? I think we should just write our papers –"

Andrew nearly immediately cut him off, glaring at Bender almost menacingly. He didn't pull it off very well. "Look, just because you live in here doesn't give you the right to be a pain in the ass. So knock it off!"

"It's a free country," Bender said, and Margaret lifted her head to see the fake hurt on his face. _He doesn't give a shit about whatever any of us say_, she thought.

"Hey," she said, and Andrew turned, realizing the thespian's small voice was directed at him. "He's only doing it to get a rise out of you. It's just better to ignore him, alright?"

Sweets?" Margaret found Bender staring directly at her, a smirk on his face. "You couldn't ignore me if you tried."

She rolled her eyes, and Bender turned his pathetic comments onto Andrew and Claire. "So, are you guys like boyfriend/girlfriend?"

Neither of them answered. "Steady dates?"

More silence, but Margaret noticed a scowl growing on the princess's face. "Lo-vers?" He stretched out the word, leaning closer to the pair.

"C'mon Sporto, level with me." He smirked the tiniest bit as he said, "Do you slip her the hot… beef… injection?"

With that the two populars snapped.

Claire yelled, "GO TO HELL!"

"ENOUGH!" Andrew followed with, but both of their faces an angry red. Margaret was completely shocked at Bender's… well everything. He seemed almost proud of himself, especially when it got the six of them yelled at by Vernon not even a second afterwards.

"Hey! What's going on in there?" They all became quiet, then returned to what they were doing. Claire and Andrew glaring severely at Bender. Bender not really caring. Margaret and Brian glancing at each other in disbelief. And the basket-case just ignoring everything.

Or at least Margaret thought she was. She couldn't really tell.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Andrew glowering, and just barely heard him mumble, "Scumbag."

_I agree, Mister Jock, I really do,_ she thought just as she made eye contact with Bender. Light brown eyes meeting striking grey. _Stupid, handsome jackass. Wait… did I just say handsome?_ Shit.

**A/N: So what did you guys think? Leave you're thoughts in a review!**


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